


The Bride

by goodmorninglovelies



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, Weddings, gender feels and thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22443697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorninglovelies/pseuds/goodmorninglovelies
Summary: Five times David wanted to be a bride and one time he was.OrThe author works through her mixed feelings about David being called a bride through fic.
Relationships: Alexis Rose & David Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 34
Kudos: 184





	The Bride

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been thinking about a fic like this since the premier, and after today’s teaser, I decided to write it. 
> 
> Please be aware that this does have some gender normative stuff, although I hope ultimately, it is a rejection of those stereotypes. Nevertheless, content warning for that.
> 
> Thanks to the folks on social media today who talked to me about all my gender feelings!

_Five Years Old  
June 19, 1989  
The Plaza Hotel, New York City _

David Rose looked around in awe at the beauty of the ballroom. Each table was overflowing with flowers, centerpieces that towered over him and seemed larger than life. Men and women in gowns and tuxedos settled at tables and moved across the dance floor. Soft colored light danced along the walls, casting the entire room in soft purple. 

At the head table, the bride was in a gorgeous ball gown. David had watched her all evening. She looked just like Cinderella, covered in lace and crystals, a tiara perched on her head and a long veil falling down her back. David wanted nothing more than to stroke the soft silk of the dress and examine the sparkling rhinestones. He wanted to wrap the veil around himself and feel beautiful.

One day. One day he wanted the flowers and the sparkles and beauty. One day. 

***

_Seven Years Old  
November 12, 1991  
The Rose Family Estate _

David climbed up on the bar stool at the kitchen island. Adelina was making dinner, and he liked to be near her when she did. Sometimes she’d let him help. Or ask him about his day. It was nice just to be with her. 

Today Adelina was watching one of her shows while she cooked, the small TV in the corner of the kitchen on low. “What are you watching, Adelina?” David asked. 

“It’s Jack and Jennifer’s wedding. They’ve waited so long for this and finally, they’re getting married. Look at the bride. Isn’t she beautiful? It’s her special day.”

David looked at the screen, considering, but a thought niggled. “Why is it just her day? Isn’t that man gonna be her husband?”

“Of course, darling. It’s just usually the bride who is the one who plans the wedding and makes sure everything is beautiful. The groom just has to show up.”

David screwed up his mouth as he processed this information. “Adelina, can I be a bride someday? I wanna make things pretty and look pretty too.”

Adelina paused and her eyes softened. She stroked a comforting hand over David’s hair. “Of course you can, my love. You can be anything you want.”

***

_Nine Years Old  
September 5, 1993  
The Rose Family Estate_

“David, play wedding with me,” wheedled Alexis. 

David’s interest sparked, even as he continued to draw. It didn’t pay to give in too easily to younger sisters. “I’m busy.”

“Please, David? Please? We can dress up and Adelina said we can have cake.”

Waiting a beat to ensure he retained the upper hand, he gave in. “Fine, I guess.” 

“Oh yay!” Alexis grasped his wrist and dragged him to the playroom and began digging in the costume closet their mother had had set up. She pulled out a sparkly white dress. “I’ll be the bride, and you be the groom,” she said as she pulled out a clip on bow tie and thrust it at David.

“I don’t want to be the groom. The groom never gets to have any fun. That’s boring. I want to be the bride.”

“You can’t be the bride, David. The bride’s a girl.”

“I can so be the bride. Anyone can be the bride. I’m older. I get to pick!”

“Ugh fine David. You can be the bride first, but then I get to be the bride!”

Flush with victory, he grasped the dress and began planning out his ceremony.

***

_Twenty-Four Years Old  
May 17, 2009  
Rose Family Private Jet, Somewhere over the Atlantic _

David shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he looked at Alexis. She seemed so much frailer than usual. Younger. Smaller. Abashed in a way that didn’t suit her and he didn’t care for. She was staring out the window and rubbing at the bare fourth finger of her left hand. 

She’d called him barely 12 hours earlier from Monaco. Her three day engagement to Andrea Casiraghi had ended in tears, recriminations, a few thrown cocktails and a revoked visa. He’d boarded a plane and was on his way to her 45 minutes later. 

“I really thought he loved me,” she said suddenly.

David didn’t know how to respond. He knew what to do when she was in trouble. He knew which strings to pull to get expedited passports. He knew who the best fixers were in three different North African countries. He had contacts at the consulates throughout Europe and Asia. But this? He had no idea how to respond to this. 

He cleared his throat. “Bright side? Monaco is passé and tacky. Would you really want to live there, or worse, have your wedding there?”

“Um excuse me, David. I would have planned a gorgeous wedding. I would have been the perfect bride.”

David scoffed dramatically. Alexis sat up straighter and glared daggers at him. “I would have! Certainly a better bride than you!”

“Excuse me? Of the two of us, do you really think you have the better constitution to be a bride? Who planned Paris Hilton’s surprise birthday party on four hours notice? Even Lindsay Lohan admitted it was perfect!”

“Ugh David, at least I wouldn’t have some, like, boring black and white color scheme!”

“Okay, first of all, a black and white palate is sophisticated and timeless, and second of all, there would be tasteful splashes of color among the florals. I would definitely be a better bride than you.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said with a hair toss. “Next time, I’m engaged, I’ll prove it.”

“Hmm,” David hummed noncommittally, but he was pleased. Her color was better and she was sitting up a little straighter. That was the thing about Alexis. She never stayed down for long. Of course he’d make a better bride, but he supposed, given the circumstances, he could let her have the last word. 

***

_Thirty-Five Years Old  
January 7, 2020  
Patrick Brewer’s Apartment, Schitt’s Creek_

David and Patrick sat companionably on the sofa. Patrick had put a hockey game on tv and had a beer in hand, the other arm thrown over the back of the couch. David was tucked into his side, ignoring the hockey game in favor of making wedding notes in his journal. He enjoyed the white noise of the game and the warmth of a Patrick’s body heat at his back. It was cozy and domestic and David thought there couldn’t be anything better.

“Hey, David, can I ask you something?”

“If it’s about the sheets on our registry, I still haven’t decided.”

“No, it’s not that, although I did notice we’re on day six of ‘considering our options,’” Patrick said with a teasing smile. 

“Sheets are important, Patrick. How you sleep sets the tone for the whole day. A comfortable and well-outfitted bed is really the foundation of a healthy marriage.”

“So you’ve said,” Patrick replied and couldn’t help but place a kiss on David’s forehead. 

“It’s actually about something Alexis said.” David hmphed in irritation, their makeup hug clearly not erasing all of his annoyance with her. 

“Which part? The part where she wouldn’t shut up about the Galapagos or the part where she tried to pretend she hadn’t misbooked her flight?”

“No, it was actually when she called you a bride.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It didn’t — it didn’t sound very nice, and I was just wondering if it bothered you. If you wanted to talk about it.”

David closed his notebook and sat up to look at Patrick. “She didn’t mean it like that, not in a bad way. Well, she was being a jerk, but using the word bride wasn’t part of that.”

“I know, but sometimes people can still be hurtful, even when they don’t mean to be.”

“Yeah and she can definitely do that, but this didn’t bother me. I _want_ to be a bride. The bride is the one who gets to have the bridal shower. The bride is the one that gets to choose the colors and decor. The bride is the one who gets to pick out the bridal party outfits. Even that name! Bridal party. I want to be that person. Who says only women get to be that or have that? I have exquisite taste and top tier planning skills. I was _made_ to be a bride.”

Patrick smiled fondly at David. “You do have those things.” He paused as David preened. “But what about me, David? Maybe I want to be a bride too.”

“Okay well the beauty of queer weddings is you can have as many brides as you want. However, it is one of the foundational principles of our partnership, professionally and personally, that I take the lead on aesthetic decisions. That was the implicit contract you agreed to when you proposed.”

“I did, did I?” Patrick leaned forward. 

“Yep. Yes, you did.” And David met him halfway, smiling into the kiss. 

***  


_Thirty-Five Years Old_  
_April 11, 2020  
Rosebud Motel, Schitt’s Creek _

The evening was winding down. Most of the guests had left and it was pretty much family that remained. Moira was regaling Clint and Marcy with tales from Sunrise Bay. Stevie and Johnny were dancing alone on the dance floor. And Ted and Alexis were chatting in the corner. David and Patrick were cozied up on an outdoor sofa under the fairy lights that had been put up around the field behind the hotel. 

“Are you happy?” David asked quietly, even though he knew the answer. 

“David, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. Today was perfect. And so were you. You make a beautiful bride, David Rose.”


End file.
